


Clutching to the Wheel

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 3x22 Drabble, Gen, The Jolly Roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones gets one last moment in the past to say goodbye to his beloved ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clutching to the Wheel

As Smee turns to fetch Snow, Killian can’t help but feel a clench in his heart, a dark pang that lingers and cracks. He turns to face the Jolly Roger, her sails billowing in the sea breeze, the wooden floorboards creaking along with the tide.

"Aye, I know, love," he whispers to the ship,  _his_ ship. He hopes she hears him, and despite the fact that this is the past, and he— _Hook_ —still has her, he believes the louder than usual groans of the old girl means she  _knows_.

He makes his way down to the quarters,  _his_ quarters, and stares, eyes intently studying the small room. The twin bed tucked in the corner, Liam’s old bed, the one he shared with Milah, the one he laid in at night during the year without her, his heart pounding  _Em-ma_  in a torturous syncopation. The desk, cluttered with maps of the Enchanted Forest and Neverland and various realms he’ll never have a chance to venture to again. The books he’d collected over the years, mystical stories and historical accounts, pages worn and read during centuries alone. He chuckles when he spots the stash of rum, tucked next to the bed, and he wonders (correction,  _remembers_ ) how drunk he used to get, when the pull to become a complete waste of life was greater than that of revenge. 

He begins to move throughout his quarters, hesitantly because it’s like looking at his space, his  _home_  through the lens of an outsider, his own soul so very changed since the time of  _this_ Hook. He can see the image of his brother standing at the mirror, adjusting his uniform every morning, briefing Killian on the day’s events or the mission at hand. He can feel Milah, wrapped in the sheets, his body hovering close to her warmth, pleasure seeping from her skin. 

Those good memories outweigh the bad in this bittersweet moment as he touches the wood of the walls, strolls around the desk towards the windows to look out at the moonlight cascading down onto the water, reflecting off in a glorious glimmer of white light. It reminds him of the one he gave her up for, haunting green eyes and long blonde waves and a smile that burns his heart each time she offers it to him, images of the woman he’d go to the end of the world for without a second thought flashing through his mind.

"I’m sorry, you know that," Killian chokes, tears brimming and threatening to spill over. "But it was the only thing I could do."

He hears the ship croak back, low and deep, as if she’s saying she understands and he chuckles because of course she would. She’s an enchanted ship, after all.

He sits slowly in his desk chair, closing his eyes and sighing, taking in the sounds of her, swaying along with her familiar rock through the ebb and flow of this harbor. He recalls the last time he’d sat here, the morning of the curse, and he wishes he’d had more time to say goodbye to her. But time was not a luxury he had, not when Emma was concerned, not when she needed saving, not when  _he_ needed her to save  _him_.

It’s when he hears the sound of feet above deck, Snow’s warm tone echoing down into his cabin (a timbre that sounds so much like her daughter’s, like  _his_ Emma’s) that he finally jolts out of his personal memorial. 

"You were a marvel, love," he murmurs, and he swears he hears her answer back.

 _I know_.


End file.
